


Murphy's Law

by Oneddesire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Baker Harry, Blackmail, Character Death, Cheating, Dubious Consent, Easter Eggs, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, F/M, Fireman Niall, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Home Invasion, Hostage Situations, Hurt Harry Styles, Kidnapping, Liam Payne & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, M/M, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Sexual Bondage, One Direction References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prosecutor Liam, Prosecutor Louis, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Threats of Violence, Violence, hurt Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneddesire/pseuds/Oneddesire
Summary: "If anything can go wrong, it will."Struggling with economic and social problems, unsuccessful prosecutor Louis Tomlinson finally gets a chance to prove himself when he miraculously stumbles upon a new case that could save his career and his not so perfect relationship with his boyfriend Harry Styles. He however soon finds himself completely out of his depth as they are taken hostage in their own home by a group of men that threatens Louis to lose the trial in exchange for their lives. While Louis struggles to find loopholes in a case where the defendant is without a doubt guilty, Harry struggles with everything else.(Larry Stylinson)Mature content, read with caution. 16+





	1. disclaimer

**Author's Note:**

> (This story is 100 % fictional and this writer respects the boundaries of what is real and not, and does not support any form of harassment or forced support of the real life human beings this story is based around.)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/148899070@N05/42234603011/in/dateposted/)

Cover made by Oneddesire ©

 **Murphy's Law (Larry Stylinson)**  Copyright © 2018 by Oneddesire.

_All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher._

_This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental._

 


	2. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear directioners and other interested parties. I go by the name Rosey and are known by most as the writer behind the Ziall fic "Silent Mind" on Wattpad. I decided to turn to AO3 for my return, but will also be posting this fanfiction on Wattpad if you'd rather read it there: https://www.wattpad.com/user/dramaticqueer
> 
> Remember to read the tags before considering this fanfiction. The rating is M for Mature content. 
> 
> Please know that I truly appreciate kudos and comments. I hope you enjoy the story!

Under the moonlight the south British avenues laid still. The heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze Louis Tomlinson felt against his right hand resting out the rolled down window as he drove, a lit cigarette between tired fingers. Leaving London and its constant beat behind him for the day, Louis rode between pools of streetlights while Foreigner was serenading on the radio, reminding him of an age he’d missed.

   The entire backseat was occupied by cardboard boxes and heavy binders all addressed “ **Lively v MPC [2018] UKHL 20, [2019] 2 AC 692** ” in black marker. Louis could barely believe that his colleague Liam Payne had convinced their boss to give Louis the case. Not only because Mr. Cowell had complied, something the man rarely did, but also because Liam Payne usually didn’t care about anyone else but himself and his career.

   Sure, Liam had insisted on leading the prosecution alongside Louis, showing his true colours, but it was something Louis didn’t mind. Liam was a smart, strategic man and a good prosecutor. They had developed a rivalry kind of friendship over the years, and even if Louis could not help but be jealous of Liam for his success he also could not help but be impressed by.

   Louis had worked at MPC for over three years and while the other prosecutors at the firm had kept getting the cases that gave them their push up on the career ladder towards success, Louis had been left to handle the remainders. After months of scraping the bottom of the barrel he had finally gotten his chance to prove himself. It was finally his time, and he had bloody Liam Payne to thank for that.

   Louis turned into a side street, parked the car and threw the cigarette out the window before rubbing his face. He was exhausted after a long day of going through the case, but this time it felt good, it felt worth it.

   He kept the radio on, the music station was actually playing decent music for ones and letting that go to waste would be a crime, though it could not possibly compete with the crime Louis was dealt with or the one he was about to commit himself, again.

   The door to the passenger seat opened and a blonde haired woman slipped inside and without an introduction, she threw herself over Louis and immediately began to kiss him with intent. That was usually how Diana greeted him and Louis greeted her back as eagerly as ever. He had missed her after all.

   Sliding his hands down the curves of her body, Louis did not have anyone else in mind. It was her, then and there, and she was so beautiful and real and so feminine, her eyes so blue and skin so pale and glistening.

   But as soon as Louis closed his eyes, the image of her quickly transformed into Harry Styles. His Harry. Louis frowned.

   After two and a half years it still made no sense to Louis that he could recite those words in the same sentence because Harry deserved better, deserved more, deserved everything. Louis did not deserve Harry. He knew this, Harry’s family knew this, the world did. The worst part was that Harry had not figured it out himself yet it seemed, and Louis still feared the day that he would.

   They had met at a charity event that Louis’ had been invited to through work, and as he had recently moved to the capital he had known literally nobody. Enter Harry, who had literally crashed into Louis’ life with the most charming smile and mesmerizing eyes and a cheeky “hi”.

   Louis had fallen in love immediately. But it turned out it had been Harry that had spotted him across the room that night and had decided on making him his. It was Harry that had approached him all nervously and had taken the leap and “accidentally” walked into him to create an excuse to start a conversation. It was all Harry.

   If the Gods were real, Louis had always told himself, then Harry was their masterpiece. All the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with Harry. And yet, there Louis was, undressing a woman he had met only a handful of times.

   Harry was no woman, Harry was Harry. Harry was not Diana but Diana was not Harry. These thoughts kept battling with each other in his head as he kept pulling the straps of her red dress from her petite shoulders.

   Louis opened his eyes as Diana steered his hands to her breasts over her bra and as he gripped onto them, one of John Waite’s best songs came on the radio and Louis scrunched his face in frustration. Of course it had to be one of Harry’s favourite songs, god damn it. Louis broke the kiss and ushered Diana down and she complied easily, began working his fly open.

   “Someone’s eager” She snickered before occupying her mouth with other things than words and Louis leaned his head back and closed his eyes again because he knew he had lost to his imagination with no way back. He let Harry reappear and it felt better, almost as if he could remove the guilt - but just almost. The song echoed in his head as he kept letting his mind wander off and Diana with the long, blonde hair was no more. His hand was gripping onto dark curls now, it was Harry’s lips around his cock.

   His thoughts were however quickly erupted by the ringtone of his phone in his back pocket.

   Louis scrambled to reach it without disturbing Diana and as he read the screen the guilt found its way back tenfold and festered in his throat. It was Harry. Of course it was fucking Harry. Louis cleared his throat before swiping a sweaty, shaky finger across the screen to answer, leaned back and closed his eyes again.

   “Harry, I was just about to call you.” His voice sounded as indiscreet as he felt.

   “Louis, sorry i hope i am not disturbing,”

   Louis wanted to scoff at that, because Harry was definitely, totally disturbing, but also, it made the situation downstairs even more real and intriguing. Louis had never been so close to coming in his life.

   -“i just wanted to know if you were on your way home. Dinner is almost ready.” Harry’s voice was as sweet and innocent as always. Louis had trouble keeping his moans to himself as Diana kept to her activity between his legs.

   “Yeah it’s been a lot at work today but i am on my way, shit, almost home love. I’ve got some great news to share with you when i get home.” If guilt was a person, it would have beaten Louis to a bloody pulp right then and there and he would have deserved it.

   “Good to hear, i’ll see you in a bit then. Drive safely.” Harry replied.

   “I always do, love you.” Louis cursed his very being for existing and hung up the phone.

 

-

 

Looking down on his phone, Harry bit his lower lip, contemplating if he had sounded too nosy. He would never want Louis to feel smothered by him since he was already struggling with basically everything else in his life.  Harry shook the thoughts away and turned the heat of the stove plate down, letting the risotto simmer while cutting up tomatoes for the salad. The clock radio on the window sill had just played his favourite song and continued the 80’s wagon with Simple Mind.

   Harry smiled because Louis had sounded in more high spirits than he’d done in a long time and he could not wait to hear the great news Louis had mentioned. Harry kept making guesses on what the news could be as he poured the tomatoes into a bowl and mixed it with the sliced mozzarella, olive oil and basil. The perks of living on the countryside outside of London was the peaceful quiet.

   Besides the timer of the kitchen fan and the melody streaming from the clock radio, there was stillness. It was a life Harry never expected he’d live, growing up in a posh household in the center of Manchester. Moving to London to go to medical school, he had never in a million years thought he’d give up the chaos of the city life to an isolated cottage in the middle of nowhere.

   His parents had tried to talk him out of the idea, but Harry had been head over heels with Louis and all of his ideas from the moment they met. He had never doubted his feelings, never consider his choices. His only choice was Louis, always had been - always would be.

   So after dropping out of medical school halfway through and cutting his losses with his family, Louis and Harry had been left on their own. So it was no surprise when Louis had asked Harry to move out to the countryside with him. the cottage had been fairly cheap compared to a London apartment and it still wasn’t too far away from civilization. They had made the tiny and welcoming cottage on the hillside a home.

   It needed a complete renovation of its interior but the view over the Surrey hills and fields, the greens of the Wotton woods and the lakes, the rarity of people and beauty of nature made it secondary of priority. Harry’s priority was to enjoy what didn’t need change and what needed one, he took his time with. While Louis kept working in the city, Harry worked part time at a bakery in the village and spent the rest of his time managing their home.

   The radio switched to Journey as the timer rang and Harry turned the stove off before pulling the hair tie out to let his curls fall down over his shoulders. He had kept it long because Louis ones told him that he was pretty in it, and Louis telling him anything remotely complementing would forever be engraved in Harry’s mind.

   It was as if Louis had him under a spell, a spell Harry would never want to break. He smiled as he stood there in the old fashioned kitchen keeping his mind on Louis while pulling his fingers through his hair. Things were good, he was happy.

   “Hello princess.”

   Harry jerked around to find himself face to face with a stranger in his kitchen, a tall and broad man with piercing blue eyes and a slanted smirk playing on his lips. Before he could react, the man grabbed him by the throat and forced him up against the nearest wall. Harry’s hands quickly flew up to claw at the man’s hands that were now adding pressure around his airways, completely blocking it.

   Pain seared through him worse than a branding iron, his mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. He could feel himself slip into something he never thought would be that terrifying. Death? Was dying supposed to feel like this? That is when the man released the grip and Harry slid his body down the wall to the floor, limbs heavy and mind caught in an aching haze.

   “Clarke for fucks sake, remember what Ricky said.” Harry could hear a muffled voice say while he desperately gasped for air, shakely caressing his hand over the burning sensation around his neck, white dots danced around his vision.

   “Don’t get your willies in a bunch Zayn, i’m just subduing him like i was told to.” The man whose name was revealed hissed and moved, causing a startled Harry to flinch back only to cry out in pain as his hair, the hair Louis liked so much, was grabbed at the roots and pulled to bend his head back.

   A gun was then pointed straight at him and it was then Harry found that the man had crouched down and was now hovering over him, eyes so cold and frightening it caused Harry to close his own, fear and pain a blended, strong mixture. Nothing had been processed so far, there were no thoughts on what they wanted or what they were going to do with him, nothing. Harry’s mind was completely focused on fear.

   “The work is done, he’s been subdued. Now go do yours.” Clarke’s words were addressed to the other stranger who snorted and walked out of the room, leaving Harry with his assailant.

   “Now,” the man trailed off and Harry could hear by the switch of tone in his voice how he had turned his attention back to him. -”get the fuck up.”

   Harry was forced to stand and roughly pulled out of the kitchen and into the living room where he was pushed down over the dining table Harry had yet to set for dinner. The man held him down, still by the grip on his hair, as he straddled Harry immobile on the white painted oak and pulled his hands behind his back forcibly.

   Harry’s throat was still on fire from the beginning of the assault and as he was wrestled down he realized that his body shared the same burning sensation of pain, there was literally no strength to speak of. All he could do was lay there and let himself be manhandled while trying to breathe.

   There were other people in the house, he could hear men talk with each other, furniture being moved, multiple, booty footsteps booming across the floor. He tried to put pieces together but his focus was quickly drawn from everything else and back to the man behind him, pulling what both sounded and felt like duct tape taught around his wrists.

   “Please don’t,” Harry choked out, voice tight and raspy. He was not entirely sure how to end the sentence or where the courage or strength to speak even came from, however he never had the time to conclude anything since Clarke pulled his head up by the grip of his hair and shoved it back down on the table with a brute force, causing Harry a severe concussion.

   “Shut the fuck up.” The man snapped in his ear before letting go of the grip on Harry and crouched down by his feet to tape his ankles together.

   What could these people want? A thought had finally erupted in Harry’s mind, but it was a question he had no idea of answering himself. He was soon pulled up to stand by the back his shirt this time, the man so kindly sparing his scalp the pain, but pain still returned tenfold as the man punched him in the abdomen. Harry would have doubled over if Clarke would have let him. But the man quickly pushed him down on one of the chairs as Harry tried to regain his breath ones again, coughing and whimpering.

   The man pulled out a big, grey, knitted sock and pushed it passed Harry’s lips and almost all the way down his throat.

   “You try spitting this out, i’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?”

   Harry shut his eyes as the man got the tape roll from the table, tore off strip before walking back to him and roughly placed it over the young man’s lips, gagging him. Now completely subdued, Harry turned his head away, praying for the pain to end. If that meant complying to the violent stranger than so be it. He could not take more of it.

   “There’s a good boy.” Clarke mused and the sudden change in tone made Harry shiver. -“Hey, hey.” He bent down and with a finger fondly tucked some of Harry’s curls away from covering his face behind his ear. -”Don’t cry love.”

   Harry had not noticed he had been until the man mentioned it. He could just now feel the wetness of his cheeks. He kept his eyes tightly closed, face still turned away from Clarke.

   “Stop scaring the poor boy.” A new voice spoke from somewhere behind Harry and he opened his eyes but not because he was startled. No, the voice was warm and soothing, succeeding in pulling Harry into a sense of false security. But just for a moment, only until the man the voice belonged to appeared before him.

   His eyes; a well of jet black ink, held a gaze more fearsome than a tiger. His hair matching the dark themes, styled back. A thin paper cigarette hung from his bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth danced its way to the ceiling above them. He was dressed in a suit, completing a look of someone you definitely wouldn’t find within the walls of a countryside cottage.

   “I am sorry about all of this Harry, it’s Harry right?” The man asked and smiled, grabbed another chair, placed it in front of Harry and sat down. -”Clarke can be a little rough sometimes but he means well.” Harry kept watered and puffy eyes on the other man, in no way able to answer. He was scared, the man acting so casually in a situation like this, it was sending all kinds of chills down Harry’s spine.

   Clarke snorted from where he was now standing, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. The other man leaned closer to Harry, who wanted nothing more than to get away but was already pressing his entire weight as far back on the chair as possible. He still had trouble breathing, pain echoing through his body.

   “My name is Ricky. It’s nice to finally meet you.” The man rested his elbows on his thighs, staring intensely on Harry while the smile remained stretched on his lips. -”Sorry about the inconvenience, we are here for Louis Tomlinson.”

Dread caught in Harry’s throat like the sock, his eyes widening at the thought of what these men could possibly want from the one he loved. He could not ask, just too much was blocking thoughts from coming alive to words. He noticed himself whine through gagged lips while he pulled on the tape around his wrists, suddenly with so much to lose. Clarke was on him the next second, pulling his head back by his hair and placed the gun to his temple.

   “Clarke for Christ’s sake. Settle down. He’s just scared.” Harry clenched his eyes, scalp burning like a roaring fire. -”It’s a natural human reaction. When someone you love is in danger, you want to do whatever it takes to save them from it.” Clarke’s grip eased as a hand was placed on Harry’s cheek and he opened his eyes to stare into jet black. Ricky was now standing over him, and it was his hand, caressing Harry’s damp, rosy cheek.

   “You want to save Louis don’t you? Then let’s see what Louis is willing to do to save you.” He mused as headlights from a car poured through the windows as it drove into the parking lot in front of the cottage. The radio was still playing from the kitchen, the risotto getting cold on the stove. Life had turned upside down in a matter of moments and worst of all,

 _Louis was home._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for chapter one:
> 
> Foreigner - I Want to Know What Love is  
> John Waite - Missing You  
> Simple Mind - Let There Be Love  
> Journey - Don’t Stop Believin'


	3. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, had a lot of uni to finish before summer. i want to thank the ones that commented and gave kudos on the last chapter. it made me want to write more. hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo
> 
> i played around with photoshop a bit and made another "promotional poster" if you will. let me know if i should make one for every chapter or if you want me to leave all the imagery to you. all the love, rosey.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/148899070@N05/41607909614/in/dateposted/)

The time was exactly 9:50 pm when Louis parked the car on the gravel in front of the two-story cottage. The sun was slowly breaking behind the hills, gracing the sky with pastelle nuances. Louis was late, hungry and not in the mood to talk to Harry at all. He still felt the guilt claw at his throat as he stepped out of the Volvo and out into the lukewarm Tuesday evening.

   He could hear crickets playing in the bushes, a yellowhammer counting up to seven from a birch branch, the sprinkler in the back garden watering the grass. Louis closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sudden change of environment was always as appreciating to him, making him feel lighter as he let the busy streets of London be forgotten for the day and exchanged with the calm beauty of wide, open landscapes. It had been a good idea, to move out to the countryside, at least for him.

   And even though Harry seemed to share an enjoyment in the new lifestyle, Louis kept reminding himself that Harry used to have it all - and gave it all up for him. It felt as if he was hiding Harry away from the world, a world that deserved to be spoiled by the mere existence of him in all of his perfections. Louis knew he had been selfish, but it was Harry that had been stubborn.

   With binders and boxes stacked on each other, Louis carried his possibly biggest opportunity across the driveway to the front door, feeling the weight of it both figuratively and literally. He knew he was going to spend the night looking some stuff over to prepare for the runthrough with Liam in the morning. There was no time for rest, not when a big change was in the making.  
  
   Harry felt safe enough to never lock the door, and luckily for Louis it meant he could just lean his elbow on the handle and step inside.  
  
   “I’m home!” He called as he closed the door behind him with his heel before stepping out of his shoes and through the hallway towards the living room.  
He could hear the clock radio from the kitchen play the same frequency as his car stereo had only moments before, Rick Springfield jamming on the last chorus of Don’t Talk to Strangers.  
    
   “Harry?” He called out again as he carefully took a step over the threshold, most of his vision blocked by the boxes he was carrying.

   There was a sudden noise somewhere in front of him and as he turned his body to get a clear view of what it was, horror struck him to the core. He dropped everything he had been carrying as he stared onto the scene in front of him. Harry was sitting on one of the dining chairs, tied up, gagged, gun to his head. There were other people in the room, men he had never seen before in his life. Six of them to be exact.

   One person stood out, resting against one of the wooden pillars that was holding the second floor up, the man’s face of utter nonchalance as if he was merely waiting for a bus on a sunny day, apple in hand. He wasn’t slumped at all, his body clearly too muscular for that, yet it was just as relaxed as his face. He was almost smiling - smiling as if something good was about to happen. The world fell through Louis’ feet when he realized that good for that man was probably very bad for him.  
  
   “Good evening Mr. Tomlinson.” The man spoke and took a bite from the apple. -”It looks like you need some help with those.” He gave a nod and two of the men approached Louis, got on their knees to pick up the binders and boxes from the floor. A third man walked up to him, gun raised.

   “What’s the meaning of this?” Louis forced the words out, fear freezing mind and body to the spot. He was watching everyone without turning his head but his attention kept going back to a trembling Harry on the chair and a man behind him pulling his lover’s head back by his hair. He seemed as unfazed as the man with the apple, as if hurting another human being was a daily chore.  
  
   “Not to worry, not to worry. I will explain everything in detail. How about you hand over your phone, let’s start off easy yeah?”  
Louis quickly pushed his hands in his jacket pockets to obey the order and he soon realized he had acted too quickly as more guns were suddenly aimed at his head.  
  
   “Nice and easy.” The man breathed, holding a hand up to either calm Louis or the rest of the men, maybe both. Louis pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to the man closest to him.

   “Good. Very good.” The man mused. -”You must be tired, long day at work huh? Why not sit?” He continued and pulled out a chair at the end of the table, directly to Harry’s right, and sat down before gesturing for the seat to his.

  Louis remained standing for a moment, letting his mind run through every question he had, every thought and every feeling. He jolted his bones to wake when the man looming over Harry tugged roughly at his hair impatiently, making him whimper. Louis sat down on the chair opposite to Harry, hands on the table, eyes never abandoning him.

   “What do you want?” He asked carefully, eyebrows shaping a face of worry as he just now realized the blaring redness around Harry’s neck.

   “Right down to business with this guy, I love that.” Another bite of the apple as the man leaned back in his chair with a pleased grin. -”My name is Ricky. I am visiting your exquisit homestay on this fine evening because of _that_.” He said and pointed at the boxes and binders that the men had placed on the other end of the table. -“The Lively case.”

Louis remained silent, trying to puzzle Ricky’s words together but the man beat him to it without a second of thought.

  “What I want from you is quite simple, Louis. I need you to lose the trial. I need you to make sure that when the jury reads the last verdict, the words will be “not guilty”.”

Louis snapped his eyes away from Harry to stare at Ricky in confusion and panic. He had spent the entire day reading through the case. It was clear as day, the man was guilty and there was enough evidence to prove this in the matter of five minutes in a courtroom. What Ricky was asking of him was absolute madness.

   “That’s impossible-” Louis ushered but was quickly cut off as the man standing over Harry forced Harry up and threw him over the table on his stomach, before placing the gun against the back of his head. Harry cried out in pain into the gag and Louis got on his feet, almost causing the chair to topple back.    
  
   “Don’t!” He yelled, holding his hands up in surrender.

   “Nothing is impossible Louis, you’d know that. I mean isn’t those exact words even the slogan your brokerage use for marketing?” Ricky remained unfazed on his chair, looking at his apple as if it was more interesting than anything else happening in the room.

   “Don’t hurt him, please.” Louis begged and switched his gaze between the two men.

   “Clarke.” Ricky eventually directed at the other man, who immediately lowered the gun and pulled Harry up by his restricted arms before placing him back down on the chair.

   Harry kept his gaze lowered, cheeks drenched in fresh tears. Louis wanted to hold him, protect him - he had never felt so powerless in his life. Clarke remained standing behind Harry, his cold, blue eyes raking over Louis like a snake to its prey, silent, unmoving. No emotions to read on his face, no doubts.  
  
   “Let’s try this again.” Ricky sighed and snapped a finger as Louis sat back down, to which one of the other man responded to by walking up to the table, picking up one of the binders, walking over to Ricky and handing it to him. -”It’s a tricky case if you look at it from the perspective of the defendant, without a doubt. But cases like this always has a loophole or two. Now, it is the defense’s job to find them, your job will be to make sure that these loopholes remain open and accessible.”

  It was impossible, Louis thought again. There’s no way he could do that and not get caught. He could feel the sweat drench his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, the ringing vibrating in his ears, and the thumping of his heart against his chest. His fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm. Louis couldn’t hear his own rapid breathing, but he could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs.

   Louis just now found the music from the radio clock in the kitchen still on, The Buggles adding to the nostalgic theme the radio station was going for, the upbeat mood not matching the situation Louis was in at all. He wanted to shut it off, throw the radio into a wall.

   “I am not the right man for this. I can still back out of it, it’s not too late.” Louis said in a shaky breath, looking down on his lap.

   “Don’t put yourself down Louis. You are the perfect man for this. Someone of your skill level are more frequent to make mistakes, which it will all appear to be. No one will suspect anything.” Ricky was talking down on him, it was clear as day. Louis was aware of his position on the ladder, he knew he was still a rookie. Hearing this man say it with hints of sarcasm did not make him feel any less of a failure.  
  
   “If I do this-” Louis said but was immediately cut off.

   “You will do this Louis. You don’t have a choice.” Ricky shrugged and turned to look at Harry, Louis following his gaze. -”You have too much to lose.”

   Harry’s emotions were not easily hidden on his innocent face. The pain was evident in the crease of his brows and in his teary, green eyes as he looked at Louis, only at Louis, completely at Louis.  
     
   “You promise me he won’t get hurt?” He choked, watching Harry exhale sharply.

Ricky smirked.

   “You have my word.” Ricky clapped his hands together. Clarke flicked out a knife and bent down beside Harry, cutting the tape around his ankles before pulling him up to stand.  
     
   “What are you doing?” Louis got on his feet, ready to spring to action, not believing Ricky’s promise one bit.

   “We don’t need distractions.” Ricky said as Clarke roughly pulled Harry by his arm, forcing him towards the stairs to the second floor. Harry began resisting, never letting his worried face turn away from Louis. -”He’s in good hands don’t you worry. You’ll see him soon.”  
  
   Louis could do nothing but watch the man drag Harry away, clenching his eyes shut in despair hearing his lover’s muffled screaming fade as the distance between them widened. Ricky clapped his hands together again.

   “So, let’s begin.”

 

-

  
Harry had not recalled falling asleep, but as he opened his eyes to gaze upon the beams on the ceiling, there was a moment of thought before everything came back to him and he quickly sat up.

   The night before had been too real to be a nightmare, the pain of it still radiating through his body. But as he noticed he was in his and Louis’ bedroom, confusion festered. Louis… Louis? Louis!  
  
   Harry turned to find himself untied, lying on his boyfriend’s side of the bed and terror was added to the mixture of emotions as he found the other side empty and made. He quickly got on his feet and immediately regretted it as pain shot through him like a lightning bolt. He could feel the assault from last night everywhere on his body. There was an itch around his throat and he had trouble swallowing without feeling the restriction, his scalp was still throbbing and the aching of his abdomen all too real.  
  
   Harry felt exhausted already from letting himself feel the agony that when he let his hands roam around the bruisings as he examined himself like the doctor he was going to be, he soon realized he was only wearing yesterday’s shirt and boxers.

   The door to the bedroom was wide open and there were faint mumbles coming from downstairs. Harry looked around the room for something to wear and something to defend himself with at the same time. He found his jeans folded over the desk chair and he put them on in a heartbeat, throwing panicked glances at the door.

   He opened the first desk drawer, searching for anything to use against the men he knew was on the floor below. Pens, passports, a ruler, insurances; Harry rapidly closed the drawer to open the next. There had to be something he could use. They had surprised him last night, he had never gotten the opportunity to be able to fight back, but that did not mean he wasn’t going to fight now. He was still scared, but more so for Louis than for himself.

   So worried that he had kept his mind occupied with the thought that he had not noticed he had made more noise than he intended and as he opened the third drawer and found a scissor he heard a voice coming from behind him.

   “Hey.”  
Harry quickly turned, scissor raised in shaky hands as he swallowed a whimper.  
  
   A young man with a buzzcut stood in the doorway, soft hazel looking at him. Harry recognized him from the night before, Clarke had called him Zayn. Zayn was thin and shorter than Harry, meaning he could probably take him if it weren’t for the gun in his hand.

   “Where’s Louis?” Harry stuttered, not lowering his guard. He could hear the rasp in his own voice, the choking and sock from the night before had completely worn it out.

   “He’s downstairs.” Zayn spoke calmly, the northern accent thick but unplaceable. 

   “I want to see him.”

   “Sure, but first you gotta put the scissor down or you’ll get in trouble.” Zayn kept his voice low, as if not wanting to alert the men downstairs. Harry contemplated it for a second, but decided not to listen, definitely not trusting a man that had invaded his home.

   “Listen, if I don’t get you downstairs soon they are going to wonder and if they come up here and catch you like this they are going to hurt you again. Do you want that?” Zayn spat in a whisper, putting his gun away slowly. -”Just put it down and everything will be alright, just-”  
  
   “Zayn! Get him the fuck down here.” A voice boomed from downstairs.

   Zayn lifted his hands in front of him, eyes pleading. Harry had no choice, he knew it. It wasn’t much worry about his own well being, but Louis was downstairs and he wanted to see him. He lowered the scissor and placed it on the desk behind him, gaze never leaving the other man who kept nodding approvingly before throwing a look over his shoulder.

   “Zayn!” The voice from downstairs yelled again.

   “Yeah!” He called back and stepped away from the entrance, gesturing Harry to walk.      

   Harry did, slowly while placing a steady hand on his bruised abdomen, the pain stabbing at him every other second. He passed Zayn and let himself be led out the room and down the hallway to the stairs, feeling the other man’s presence behind him. He had without a doubt pulled out his gun again as Harry felt it grazing the back of his shirt as they walked down the steps.

   He lifted his gaze as the living room disclosed itself and four men, and flinched as he noticed one of them being Clarke standing at the end of the staircase, looking at him intently with cold blue.  
   

   “Morning princess.” He said, voice velvety and wrong in all ways.

   Harry clenched his jaw, turning his eyes back down on his feet as he walked down the last couple of steps to the main floor, the fear growing as he got closer and closer to the man he wished to be as far away from as possible.

   Harry then threw a quick glance around the room for Louis and felt his heart sink as his boyfriend was nowhere to be found.  
  
   “Louis.” He could hear himself exhale as his eyes wildly searched every millimeter of the space, panic increasing. -”Louis!?”  
  
   Clarke and another man grabbed him and Harry gave his all to get out of the grip as he screamed, fear of being left on this earth alone, without Louis, without the man he loved. The men all yelled at each other, at him, multiple hands grabbing at him - but Harry could neither hear or feel, too lost in dread to care about anything else but Louis.

   He was however suddenly awoken from his frantic state realizing he’d been forced down on the floor on his stomach, arms pulled behind him, a heavy weight on top of him restricting both movement and airway. Clarke, it was Clarke on top of him.

   “Calm down for fucks sake.” He snapped, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

   Harry felt tears running across his face where he lay with his cheek against the wood, trying to catch his breath like the man above him.

   “You’re a lot more fun than I thought you’d be.” Clarke snickered and the men around them joined in. Clarke then increased the tightness of his grip around Harry’s wrists, growing heavier on top of him. Harry had stopped fighting but would not let his body slacken and give up, he had promised himself - not this time.

   “That’s it, there you go love. Nice and easy.” Clarke said and got up, completely releasing Harry from his vice and walking up to some of the other men, high fiving them and laughing.  
  
   Harry sat up slowly, hands on the wooden floor supporting his weight, legs bent together and a teary face kept lowered to hide behind curls and defeat.

   “W-where’s Louis?” He cried, wiping away at his face with his sleeve.  
  
   “Out.” A blonde haired man with a scruff replied with a short tone on his left.  
  
   “I want to see him.”  
  
   “Who fucking cares?” Another man from behind him laughed.  
  
   “Please let me call him, or something I-.” Harry dared to look up but flinched back as he found Clarke crouched down in front of him, too damn close, arms resting on his thighs and hands clenched.

   “You need to shut your mouth before I shove the sock back down your throat.” He reached forward and Harry shut his eyes, preparing himself for more pain.  
  
   But the man traced the back of his fingers down Harry’s swollen neck, eyes focused on the motion. Harry could feel himself shake, and it angered him that this man could make him feel so weak, so little, so scared.

   “Your boyfriend’s at work, doing what he’s supposed to do to make sure you both get out of this alive.” Clarke continued as he let his hand trail further down to Harry’s chest, ghosting over one of the swallow tattoos and down to his silver cross pendant, ignoring Harry’s obvious discomfort. -”You are supposed to not get in the way of that. That’s your job.”  
  
   Harry felt his lower lip quiver as a cold breeze of realization hit him of just how bad the situation was.  
  
   “You just gotta sit still, be quiet and do what you’re told. Simple.” Clarke retracted his hand and got back up, much to Harry’s relief.  
  
   The rest of the men scattered, leaving him on the floor, trying to catch up to everything. Harry noticed Zayn remaining close and as he turned to look up at him - Zayn gazed back at him apologetically before walking away, leaving him alone.  
  
   Harry put his hand back against his bruised abdomen and tried to focus on his breathing but all of his thoughts remained where they had begun that morning,

   on Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for the chapter:   
> Rick Springfield - Don’t Talk to Strangers  
> The Buggles - Video Killed The Radio Star


End file.
